Yanetta. Yes, a savage! You call that justice! [To the gendarmes] You don't take me like that, I tell you! [She clings to the furniture] You're a butcher! You are as cruel as the people in history who broke one's bones to make one confess! [The gendarmes have dragged her free; she lets herself fall to the ground and shouts the rest of her speech while the men drag her to the door at the back] Brute! Savage brute! No, you don't think so—you think yourself a fine fellow, I haven't a doubt, and you're a butcher—
Mouzon. Take her away, I tell you! What, the two of you can't rid me of that madwoman?
The gendarmes make a renewed effort.
Yanetta. Butcher! Coward! Judas! Pitiless beast! Yes, pitiless, and you are all the more dishonest and brutal when you've got poor folk like us to do with. [She is at the door, holding to the frame] Ah, the brutes, they are breaking my fingers! Yes, the poorer one is the wickeder you are! [They carry her away. Her cries are still heard as the curtain falls] The poorer one is the more wicked you are—the poorer one is the more wicked you are—
CURTAIN.
ACT III
The office of the District Attorney. A door to the left, set in a diagonal wall, gives on to a corridor. It opens inwardly, so that the lettering on the outside can be read: "Parquet de Monsieur le Procureur de la République." A desk, chairs, and a chest of drawers.